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<By  JAMES  A.  EMERY 


VICTORY 


^ADDRESS 


BY 

JAMES  A.  EMERY 


DELIVERED  AT  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

ON  THE  OCCASION  OF  "VICTORY  NIGHT" 

TUESDAY,  DECEMBER    3 ,   1918 


SAN  FRANCISCO 
THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


1919 


Printed  by  TAYLOR  &  TAYLOR,  San  Francisco 


FOREWORD 

THE  EVENING  of  Tuesday,  December 
j,  1918,  had  been  set  apart  in  the  Bo- 
hemian Club  as  the  occasion  of  the  Club's 
thanksgiving  Dinner.  For  twenty  years  the 
Christmas  Dinner  has  been  a  feature  of  the 
Club's  calendar;  the  thanksgiving  Dinner 
was  instituted  as  an  annual  event  in  /<?/7- 
On  that  first  occasion,  the  Christmas  ceremo- 
nial of  bringing  in  the  Swan  was  gaily  imi- 
tated by  choristers,  in  black  face,  accompany- 
ing a  great  bronze  gobbler,  borne  aloft  in  a 
gilded  cage,  tfhe  Jinks  Committee  were  pre- 
paring a  repetition  of  this  thanksgiving  Din- 
ner when  the  news  of  the  armistice  called  the 
whole  civilized  world  to  a  feast  of  thanksgiv- 
ing. At  once  the  Committee  renamed  the 
evening  of  December  $rd  "Victory  Night" 
and  organized  its  ceremonies  accordingly.  In 
the  great  cage,  designed  to  hold  the  feathered 
captive  of  the  usual  festival,  was  borne,  in- 
stead, the  squatting  figure  of  a  tfurk,  and  the 
cage  was  followed  by  a  member  of  the  Club, 
an  Armenian,  in  cook's  uniform,  brandishing 

[  3  ] 


392692 


a  knife  in  triumph,  tfke  music  of  the  evening 
was  furnished  by  the  Club  band,  supplying 
the  martial  tone  befitting  a  feast  of  thanks- 
giving for  victory,  tfo  accommodate  the  vol- 
ume of  this  tone,  the  dinner  was  served  in  the 
Jinks  Room,  with  the  band  upon  the  stage, 
fhe  Jinks  Room  holds  comfortably,  at  small 
tables,  3 35  places;  on  this  occasion,  410  mem- 
bers and  guests  were  served.  Service  was  so 
difficult  on  account  of  this  crowding  of  the 
space  that  an  extra  hour  elapsed  before  the 
black  coffee  came  upon  the  tables  and  the 
speaking  began. 

It  was  before  an  audience  held  overlong  in 
its  places  by  congested  conditions  and  result- 
ing delays  that  Mr.  James  A.  Turnery,  of 
Washington,  D.  C.,  a  new  member  of  the 
Club,  arose  to  speak,  toward  the  end  of  the 
program,  tfhose  who  remember  the  alternat- 
ing hush  and  applause  by  which  his  impres- 
sive address  was  attended  and  the  enthusias- 
tic tribute  accorded  his  thrilling  concluding 
sentence,  and  those  who,  unfortunately  ab- 
sent, heard  only  the  subsequent  appreciative 
comment,  join  in  knowledge  of  the  demand 
in  response  to  which  this  address  is  now  pub- 
lished for  distribution  to  the  membership. 

(  4  ] 


"Victory  Night"  in  Bohemia  was  in  cred- 
itable accord  with  its  inspiring  theme,  tfhe 
function  opened  with  a  toast  to  the  Com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  American  forces,  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  followed  im- 
mediately by  a  song  in  honor  of  the  Presi- 
dent, written  by  William  Henry  Carruth, 
composed  by  Edwin  Lemare,  and  sung  by 
Lowell  Red  field,  in  uniform.  Other  songs 
were  rendered  by  Jerome  Ukl  and  by  diaries 
Bulotti,  who  sang  a  composition  by  W.  J. 
McCoy,  words  by  Charles  K.  Field,  entitled 
"Come  Home,  Boys."  Henry  A.  Melvin  read 
a  paper  in  burlesque  of  the  latest  Grove  Play, 
to  take  the  place  of  the  "Afterglow,'"  which 
the  Club  had  been  obliged  to  forego  on  ac- 
count of  restrictions  due  to  the  epidemic.  Fol- 
lowing Mr.  Emery's  address,  here  presented, 
after  an  interruption  in  character  by  F.  A. 
Denicke,  who  gave  a  skit  on  Club  conditions, 
in  burlesque  of  the  Densmore  dictaphone,  the 
program  was  concluded  with  Witter  Byn- 
ner's  stirring  "Canticle  of  Praise,"  rendered 
by  the  author  and  Sam  Hume,  as  cantors,  the 
band  participating*. 

At  the  speakers'  table  were  seated  officers 
of  the  American  army  and  navy  and  officers 

[  5  ] 


of  the  British  army.  During  the  evening,  the 
gathering  had  given  a  rousing  welcome  to 
Colonel  Lubigniac  of  the  French  army  and 
officers  of  his  contingent,  in  San  Francisco  en 
route  to  Siberia;  the  "Canticle"  ended  with 
the  audience  standing  and  shouting  the  tri- 
umphal "Marseillaise" 

tfhe  foregoing  is  a  sketch  of  the  setting  of 
Mr.  Emery's  address,  tfhe  spirit  of  the  occa- 
sion is  excellently  expressed  by  him  in  the 
words  which  follow. 


VICTORY 

Mr.  President,  Officers  of  the  Allied  Armies, 
and  Fellow  Members: 

E"  me  at  this  first  opportunity  acknowl- 
edge the  privilege  of  the  last  phrase. 
Your  courtesy,  more  generous  than 
its  fame,  gives  to  the  face  of  every  stranger 
the  features  of  a  friend. 

But,  sir,  I  feel  that  tonight  however  spark- 
ling the  surface  of  this  fellowship,  even  here 
within  this  place  of  light  and  laughter,  its 
depths  are  stirred  as  never  before,  by  the 
fresh  significance  of  yonder  colors  newly  con- 
secrated with  sacrifice,  by  the  inspiring  pres- 
ence of  these  participants  in  the  great  drama, 
by  the  realization  of  the  yet  startling  and  in- 
credible fact  that  victory  is  ours,  and  anxious 
ears  already  catch  the  distant  tread  of  our  re- 
turning host. 

This,  sir,  is  neither  the  time  nor  place  to 
enumerate  the  causes  nor  conjecture  the  con- 
sequences of  this  awful  conflict.  This  is  the 
hour  of  rejoicing  and  gratitude,  of  glorious 
and  appalling  recollection.  The  swirl  of  the 
struggle  is  still  about  us,  the  sound  of  its  guns 

[  7  1 


VICTORY 

still  echoes  through  the  world,  its  stupen- 
dous panorama  rises  before  the  imagination 
like  a  vision  of  Dore. 

In  the  magnitude  and  splendor  of  its  scene 
and  action,  the  mingling  horror  and  sub- 
limity of  its  human  circumstance,  the  soul- 
shaking  memory  of  catastrophic  disaster 
averted,  of  defeat  transformed  into  victory 
by  courage  unparalleled,  sacrifice  unequaled, 
leadership  unmatchable;  in  the  physical, 
moral  and  political  changes  wrought  in 
shapes  of  states  and  in  the  minds  and  rela- 
tions of  men  and  nations,  this  war  is  the  most 
tremendous  far-reaching  social  tragedy  in  the 
records  of  the  race. 

The  world  has  been  its  stage,  mankind  its 
cast,  all  history  its  setting.  From  "the  isles  of 
Greece  where  burning  Sappho  loved  and 
sung"  to  the  remote  steppes  of  Siberia  where 
the  Czech-Slovak  Anabasis  marked  the  renais- 
sance of  a  race,  it  unfolded  its  thrilling  ac- 
tion. Warriors  of  the  Prophet  and  soldiers  of 
the  Antipodes  fought  among  the  relics  of  the 
Trojan  well;  Samuri  and  Prussian  locked  in 
death  -  grip  for  the  soil  of  Confucius ;  the 
Wolf-whelped  breed  held  the  gates  of  the 
Doges  against  the  blows  of  the  Magyar;  chil- 
dren of  the  Bowery  and  "South  of  the  Slot," 

[  8  ] 


VICTORY 

brigaded  with  Mayfair  and  Petticoat  Lane, 
pounded  the  Bavarian  where  eleven  centu- 
ries before  Charles  Martel  hammered  the 
Saracenic  invader. 

Tonight  a  new  Godfrey  de  Bouillon 
throws  his  Christian  guard  around  the  Holy 
Sepulchre.  In  Gethsemane's  garden  a  British 
soldier  holds  watch  where  the  faithful  failed. 
From  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Pyramids 
the  First  Consul  called  thirty  centuries  to  the 
inspiration  of  his  legions.  Allenby  from  be- 
side the  tomb  of  Eve  might  have  summoned 
the  Mother  of  the  race  and  invoked  recorded 
time  to  witness  this  "twilight  of  the  Kings" ! 

No  community  was  too  remote,  no  office 
too  exalted,  no  calling  too  humble  to  be 
affected  by  this  struggle  or  to  participate  in 
it.  Empires  and  republics,  ruler  and  subject, 
president  and  citizen,  both  sexes,  childhood, 
youth  and  age,  soldier  and  civilian,  gave  life, 
wealth  and  service  to  that  far-flung  battle- 
line,  drawing  its  support  and  inspiration 
from  the  mines,  the  fields,  the  forests,  the 
factories,  the  anxious  homes  of  three  conti- 
nents and  a  score  of  nations. 

It  seems  but  yesterday,  for  all  the  inter- 
vening century  of  event,  that  August  morn- 
ing, little  more  in  time  than  Bull  Run  to 

[  9  ] 


VICTORY 

Appomattox,  when  the  gray-clad  Father  of 
Famine  led  his  locust  legions  over  the  Bel- 
gian boundary.  From  that  hour  he  made  the 
business  of  life  the  manufacture  of  death. 
All  the  mind  and  hand  of  man  had  origi- 
nated, applied  and  developed  to  sustain  and 
expand  civilized  progress  were  diverted  over- 
night into  agencies  of  defense  or  destruction. 
From  the  heights  of  the  sky,  even  into  places 
remote  from  the  Front,  death  rained  upon 
soldier  and  civilian;  from  the  depths  of  the 
sea  it  struck  unseen  its  mortal  blow.  Over 
tortuous  far-reaching  ditches  of  death,  high 
up  the  Alpine  ice  played  awful  never-ceasing 
lightning  that  blasted  into  blindness,  mutila- 
tion and  gasping  horror.  Beside  these  four 
years  of  hideous,  never  -  ending,  unsparing 
frightfulness,  distinguishing  neither  sex  nor 
age,  Waterloo  shrinks  to  an  affair  of  outposts 
and  Gettysburg  assumes  the  proportions  of  a 
skirmish. 

But,  sir,  the  very  efficiency  of  Germany's 
machinery  of  destruction  became  but  a  meas- 
ure of  the  sublime  and  invincible  courage  of 
her  intended  victims.  While  memory  lives, 
who  shall  forget  that  King  who  sacrificed 
the  body  of  his  state  to  save  her  soul,  whose 
victorious  defeat  preserved  the  allied  cause 

[10] 


VICTORY 

and  made  vassal  every  heart  that  loves  a 
knightly  deed?  What  Virgil  praising  arms 
shall  picture  the  best  blood  of  Britain  and 
her  dominions,  grimly  enduring  through 
those  first  terrible  months  that  deadly  hail 
with  slight  protection  and  but  feeble  power 
of  response,  yet  answering  as  always  with 
eager  bodies  the  battle-cry  of  Shakespeare's 
Henry : 

"Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more ; 
Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead  !" 

What  Homer  shall  ever  greatly  tell  the 
tale  of  France  in  such  a  trial  as  comes  to  na- 
tions and  may  be  endured  but  once?  Within 
the  first  thirty  days  of  invasion  her  greatest 
sources  of  fuel  and  iron,  her  leading  indus- 
trial centers  were  seized  or  devastated  and 
an  eighth  of  her  population  held  in  captivity 
and  servitude.  Her  cities  crumbled,  her  proud 
capital  often  assailed  and  always  threatened, 
her  manhood  drained  in  conflict  with  superi- 
or numbers,  while  Britain  prepared  and 
America  hesitated,  her  spirit  never  failed, 
her  courage  never  faltered.  In  the  darkness, 
she  doubted  not  the  dawn.  Out  of  immeasur- 
able suffering  and  loss,  her  soul  mounted  to 
new  heights  of  resolution  and  sacrifice,  rising 
above  ruin  and  death  like  the  shattered  shaft 

[11] 


VICTORY 

of  Rheims  lifting  above  the  mortal  desola- 
tion of  the  plain  the  mutilated  but  uncon- 
querable emblem  of  her  faith.  In  a  land 
where  every  hillside  had  become  a  battle- 
field and  "every  sod  beneath  the  feet  a  sol- 
dier's sepulchre,"  the  very  dead  had  burst 
their  sepulchre  to  stop  the  tongue  of  despair 
or  surrender. 

To  such  Allies  we  became  united,  in  such 
scenes  destined  participants.  Unprepared,  un- 
disciplined, unarmed,  we  went  down  to 
Armageddon.  Even  in  that  moment  Russia 
dissolved  into  an  impotent  debating  society. 
Shortly  Servia  was  crushed,  Rumania  in 
ruins,  Italy  pressed  to  the  walls  of  Venice. 
The  Allied  fortunes  moved  from  bad  to 
worse  while  America  organized.  But  even  in 
that  hour  of  crisis  our  people  found  them- 
selves. Out  of  the  gloom  came  light.  Doubt 
and  uncertainty  hardened  into  resolution. 
Yielding  overnight  to  unaccustomed  disci- 
pline and  restraint,  the  Nation  poured  its 
eager  youth  into  camp,  its  boundless  wealth 
into  the  Treasury,  its  labor  into  every  essen- 
tial process  of  war  production,  its  practical 
leadership  into  every  place  of  public  service. 

Out  of  the  chaos  and  confusion  of  giant 
effort  slowly  emerged  the  shapes  of  system 

[12] 


VICTORY 

and  order.  The  heterogeneous  elements  of 
our  citizenship,  refuting  the  cynical  faith  of 
our  adversary,  fused  in  the  living  fire  of  the 
national  cause.  In  the  face  of  the  impossible, 
two  million  American  soldiers  ready  to  meet 
the  debt  of  Lafayette  and  Yorktown  stood 
upon  the  soil  of  France. 

Even  as  they  poured  overseas  fell  the  last 
great  staggering  blows  of  desperate  Ger- 
many. Reeling  backward  under  their  impact, 
war-worn,  Poilu  and  Tommy,  retreating,  de- 
moralized, met  the  American  Marine  at 
Chateau  Thierry,  standing  at  bay  in  the  very 
focal  point  of  destiny,  saw,  astounded,  the 
veteran  hordes  of  the  onrushing  enemy  halt, 
yield  and  fall  before  the  fresh  brawn  of  the 
West  like  ripe  grain  before  the  reaper.  In- 
spired by  that  spectacle  of  .critical  valor, 
Briton  and  Frenchman  revived,  rallied,  reor- 
ganized, and  over  the  very  pathway  of  de- 
feat returned  to  unbroken  victory.  Within  a 
hundred  days  of  that  memorable  morning 
"Deutschland  iiber  Alles"  echoed  no  more 
through  the  air  of  France  and  the  Marseil- 
laise was  rising  from  German  throats  in  the 
streets  of  Berlin. 

Thank  God,  despite  our  hours  of  weak- 
ness, doubt  and  vacillation,  America  was 

[13] 


VICTORY 

not  too  late.  Thank  God,  despite  the  poison 
of  the  pacifist,  we  learned  in  time  that  the 
murderous  campaign  of  the  German  sub- 
mersible could  never  be  ended  by  the  venal 
rhetoric  of  a  Chautauqua  submissible.  Thank 
God,  we  can  not  only  enunciate  great  truths, 
but  still  have  the  will  and  the  faith  to  vin- 
dicate them  in  the  blood  of  our  bodies.  Thank 
God  for  all  self-effacing  men  who  nobly  did 
the  work  at  home,  for  that  American  woman- 
hood that  sent  and  served  its  men  and  in 
every  place  of  famine,  wounds  and  disease 
descended  like  white  hosts  of  ministering 
angels.  Thank  God  for  our  heroes  on  land  and 
sea  whose  service  and  immortal  sacrifice  vin- 
dicate the  outraged  rights  of  the  nation  and 
preserve  the  imperiled  cause  of  civilization. 
Thank  God  that  out  of  this  bloody  tragedy 
emerges  the  triumph  of  representative  insti- 
tutions, with  new  and  greater  opportunity  for 
the  nation  and  mankind. 

For  a  century  our  political  ideals  and  in- 
stitutions have  captivated  the  minds  as  our 
material  progress  stirred  the  imagination  of 
men.  Stimulated  by  our  practical  exemplifi- 
cation of  humanitarian  precept  successfully 
operating,  Republicanism  drove  Monarchy 
from  our  Continent  and  transformed  the 

[14] 


VICTORY 

Third  Empire.  But  now  civilization  conquers 
autocracy  to  find  anarchy  lurking  in  its  ruins 
and  shouting  democracy.  We  stirred  an  an- 
cient order  with  precept;  may  we  guide  the 
new  with  the  practical  example  of  ordered 
liberty,  developed  through  a  thousand  years 
of  hard  racial  experience  but  struggling  suc- 
cessfully onward  and  upward  to  reconcile  in- 
dividual freedom  with  expanding  social 
progress,  under  self-imposed  restraint.  Shall 
we  hold  this  torch  for  darkened  minds  or  dim 
it  in  the  winds  of  the  hour?  Have  we  blazed 
the  trail  for  others  but  to  follow  the  lost? 
Have  we  fought  the  despotism  of  a  single  au- 
tocrat to  surrender  to  the  tyranny  of  many? 
Demonstrating  in  a  life-and-death  struggle 
the  practical  as  well  as  the  moral  superiority 
of  the  individually  developed  state  over  the 
state-developed  individual,  are  we  now  to 
compromise  or  parley  with  Bolshevism  or 
State  Socialism,  by  whatever  name,  however 
plausible  its  guise,  however  reputable  its 
sponsors  or  respectable  its  company?  Or  shall 
we  yield  to  like  forces  in  other  forms  and 
weakly  color  the  very  administration  of  law 
in  the  face  of  intolerable  social  threat?  The 
very  existence  of  popular  government  de- 
mands that  it  shall  not  merely  resist  the  con- 

[15] 


VICTORY 

sequences  —  but  possess  the  power  and  the 
will  to  control  and  suppress  the  causes — of 
social  disorder. 

But,  sir,  whatever  the  perplexities  of  the 
.future,  this  hour  holds  the  splendid  vision  of 
glorious  achievement.  For  tonight  the  battle 
is  ended.  Heroic  France  folds  to  her  breast 
the  children  of  her  lost  provinces.  Italy, 
redeemed,  greets  again  her  Roman  mother. 
Albert,  restored,  sits  once  more  upon  the  Bel- 
gian throne.  Down  the  sea-aisle  of  surrender 
has  passed  the  broken  Armada.  The  Crescent 
descends  in  the  Levant,  our  triumphant  fleet 
rides  in  the  Golden  Horn.  The  Crown  of  the 
Hapsburgs  hangs  upon  the  cradle  of  the 
Slavic  Republic.  In  the  very  citadel  of  mil- 
itary autocracy  Socialism  and  Anarchy  strug- 
gle for  the  mastery  of  Prussia.  Somewhere 
tonight  along  that  conquered  border,  an 
American  soldier,  perhaps  a  Californian,  pos- 
sibly one  of  this  fellowship,  keeps  the  Watch 
on  the  Rhine. 


PUBLISHED  FOR  HIS 

FELLOW   MEMBERS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

BY   CHARLES   K.  FIELD 

JANUARY,  MCMXIX 


392692 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


